Break Her Free: A Curvy Captive Romance

by Alice May Ball

  How can this be wrong?

  But knowing that it is makes it even hotter. His hand slides down my body. He bends to kiss and suck my tit. My hips buck as he pulls my nipple into his mouth. I lift my knees higher. Wider. His head slips into my channel. Engages in the center of my flower. I’m trembling all over.

  “Please, Irishman.”

  He’s poised. Locked in the opening of my pussy.

  I feel him grin and his fingers tease the back of my thigh. All the way up.

  Then, in s long thrust, he drives in so hard that I shout. My face screws up and my back arches. My heels climb his back and my hand beat on his shoulders as he slides in. Deeper. I can’t believe how huge he is. He stretches me wider and I feel like I’m going to split.

  I’m trying to squeeze him with my walls but he’s too big. I can’t grip him and he’s too hard to hold.

  I’m shouting, red-faced, hammering my fists and my ankles on him. The raw pain is too good to bear.

  “He growls, “You want it, little firecracker?”

  “Yes!” My teeth sink into his shoulder. I can hardly make the word, but I shout it, again and again as my face reddens and I clench and spasms shake my body, from my pussy through my core, down my thighs and up to my nipples. My teeth fasten on the side of his neck as he drills deeper into me.

  His rhythm is steady and hard and he pushed so deep into me. All of my body is super-sensitive and charged with a crackle like electricity.

  He pulls my face to his, stares deep into my eyes as he kisses me, with the head of his cock driving up, reaching places inside me that have never been touched before. I’m frothing, bubbling, and melting, like ice, tumbling off a glacier, the rumble at the start of an avalanche.

  My nails claw down his back and I hammer my ass into his pelvis, pulling him in deeper, harder as I’m bursting, cascading, crashing, and gushing. I hold onto him and I tremble and shudder for what seems like forever. He holds me while the shakes and quivers echo through me..

  I know I’m spent and done.

  Until he laughs and flips me over.

  Chapter Eleven

  Connor

  I slap her fantastic ass and pull her to me. She rises on her knees as I hold her creamy breast, and she twists, bringing her face around so we can kiss.

  She says, “I can’t,” even as her hot, wet wings are dragging along the ridge of my swollen cock.

  “You fucking can,” tilting my hips, I slide along her folds. She jolts as I nuzzle the tip against the bottom of her clit, slipping it below her hood.

  Her breath quakes, she knows what’s coming as I draw back and aim straight into her wet pussy. I take my time, sliding in, feeling every shake and shudder as I stretch her tight pussy wide. And I drive all the way and hold there, loving the squeezes of her velvet folds, hopelessly trying to hold on to my cock. I stroke her throat and kiss her neck before I start to ride her. When I do, crackles and flows of energy surge through her thighs and her arms. I’m insanely turned on by the roll of her stomach and the shake of her ass against my thighs.

  Chords of flexing tension start in my thighs and my stomach, but I’m determined not to let go until I’ve seen and felt her cresting again. The sound of he, gasping, the little squeaks at the start and the end of her moans, I could listen to her doing that forever.

  Her ass rolls and shakes, in synch with the piston of my cock, so perfect we could have been choreographed. God I’d love a video of this. Maybe I should just keep her, so I can see it again every day, each time from a different angle.

  My body is trying to take over. The beat of my thighs speeds up, slapping against her ass.

  Holding back is getting harder. Now I have to concentrate. Try to think of something else. Not her creamy, bouncing ass. Not the scent of her heat. Not the guttural rasp in her throat. Not the flexing wet suckling of her pussy.

  “Luce,” her name jumps into my mouth.

  “Yes, Connor. Yes!” like a plea.

  That’s it. Like I’m opening up and letting go. Like all of me is pumping, hosing, blasting a hot fountain into her.

  I hold her waist with one hand. Her hair with the other. My ass clenches and my thighs flex. All my muscles sing and crackle.

  She shouts and I need my lips to reach hers. Seal her lips with mine. Breathe with her.

  I’m up to my hilt in her. My cock blasts her with jets of my seed.

  I don’t even remember carrying her into the bed but we’re both dozy, drowsing, wrapped up together in each other’s legs and arms. She sleeps. I watch. Stroking her hair, loving the scents of her skin and the warmth of her. She sleeps. From time to time she shudders or jolts, but she doesn’t wake.

  My phone rings, nagging about every five minutes from the living area. I ignore it. I’m sure it’s fucking Garrett and I know I have to deal with him soon enough, but right now, this minute, I don’t fucking care.

  I never felt as complete and as peaceful as I do now. Holding her. Keeping her safe. What she must have gone through. Losing both of her parents like that. And being totally fucking betrayed by her mother, it sounds like. How a mother could do that, I simply do not understand.

  She is a fucking miracle. When I saw her in Rico’s office, I sensed there was danger around her, but I had no idea how much she’d been through. But I’ve got her now. The most important thing is to keep her protected and secure.

  I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes.

  The fucking phone beeps again and at last I can’t stand it any longer. I slip out as gently as I can, not to disturb her. The phone stops before I get to it. I take it to the big windows. Twenty-fucking-three missed calls, all from Garrett. And twenty-fucking-three voicemail messages. While I’m looking at the screen, he calls again.

  I answer and he’s already shouting, “What the fuck are you doing? I’ve been calling you. Where the fuck are you?”

  The river at night shines black like an oil slick. Little lights drift and bob. This place is definitely prettier than Boston. His blood pressure must be a hazard. He doesn’t look like an especially fit man. He probably does roids and energy drinks on his weekly work-out.

  “What is it, Hercules,” I ask him, “What do you want?” I can think of a lot of other things to say to him, but I hold my tongue. Not something I’m generally known for. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. Maybe I’m slipping into the local pace.

  My reflection stares back at me in the one-way window, like I’m standing over the city. Garrett rants and my mind wanders back over what Luce said earlier.

  Garrett’s growling. “You need to collect from Nico tomorrow.”

  “I know that. I told you I would.”

  “You need to give him a message, too. Tell him I’m going to put someone in there. Get the place properly run.”

  “You want me to tell him that?”

  “I just said so.”

  “You’re putting him on notice?”

  “You got a problem with that?”

  It must be one of the stupidest ideas I ever heard, but I don’t intend to tell him that. “Makes no difference to me,” I say, “I’ll tell him.”

  “Another thing. The girl.”

  “What girl.”

  “You know what girl.” He waits. I’m not filling any blanks in for him. So he asks me, “Who is she?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m asking. That’s what. You’re working for me, remember?” He breathes hard. “So. Who the fuck is she?”

  “I’m working for you, but like you said, only to crack heads. I’m not your social networking coach.”

  “There’s something familiar about her. I know her from somewhere.”

  “Good for you. Mind if I go back to sleep now?”

  “You need to show some fucking respect.

  I hang up. He called me twenty-odd times, for that conversation? I’m wondering what the urgent part was, or if he just dicks around like that all the time. Does he just yell at whoever is around whenever an idea p
ops into his head? Management by chaos.

  I knew a drugs boss who operated like that. He was powerful, and damn he was successful, but I could not stand the fucker. His business made a wreck of everyone around him.

  He calls me back. Again. I resist the urge to switch the phone off. I know how mad it would make him.

  “Yes,” My nice voice, “Mr. Garrett.”

  “You made me forget what I was calling about.”

  I don’t say anything. He says, “I got a thing for you.”

  “You’ve got a what?” I thought I had to be hearing him wrong.

  “You need to do a thing.”

  “Oh,” why’s he talking this way all of a sudden? “Okay. What is it?”

  “Our friend.”

  “What friend?”

  “At the club.”

  “Nico?”

  “The other club.”

  Whatever it is he’s trying to tell me, I can’t believe he’s telling me on a phone. Even on a burner. And if it’s what I’m starting to think it is, I can’t believe he’s telling me at all.

  I wait. He says, “Yeah. Him.”

  “That’s...”

  “That’s the thing. Tomorrow.”

  He hangs up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luce

  I wake up and it’s dark. The first thing I notice is, he’s not there.

  All the dark feelings stir up inside me again. I can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been. Letting him in like that.

  I’m too raw. Too vulnerable. When will I ever learn to take care of myself? I’ve seen enough the past two months to know that nobody’s going to do it for me. I guess I’m just too slow a learner.

  I can smell him, though. That relaxes me a little. I’m under a thick, fluffy comforter in a big, soft bed. It’s the bed in his room. And he’s coming back.

  I start to shake. My face is wet.

  His voice is soft as silk. “Are you crying?”

  “No,” but the shake in my chest gives me away. He lays a hand on my shoulder. I turn away. I don’t want it. I don’t want him to comfort me. Not now. If I let him do that, I’ll start to need him. If I haven’t started already.

  I’m afraid that it’s too late. But I can’t let that go on.

  But his touch has set something off. I curl into a ball and try to hold it all in. It’s too much. I can’t do it.

  If I let myself need him, then what would happen when I wake up and he’s not there and he doesn’t come into the room with a drink and I’m left to face the world alone again? What happens if he starts to try and own me, like Uncle Nico did? Or he betrays me like Momma did? Or he goes away. Like Daddy did. I can’t let myself depend on him. Not on anyone. Not again. It’s too painful.

  I’m shaking.

  He says, “Luce,” and I wave my hand behind my back.

  “I’ll be okay,” I’m talking into the covers. I have to turn my head so he can hear me. The look on his face, in his eyes, I believe him so much. But I have to tell him, “I will be okay. I just need a few moments.”

  He nods.

  “The last couple of months... I think it’s just all coming out in a rush.”

  “Let me hold you.” I shake my head. “You wont owe me anything. I don’t need anything in return.”

  “It’s not that.”

  He opens his big, strong arms. “I know. I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “You say that. But you don’t know.”

  He says, “But I do know. I’ll keep you safe tonight. I promise.”

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s another day. Tomorrow, I’ll make you a new promise.”

  His arms are wide and I can’t resist. I fall into him and curl up in his lap. He strokes me and holds me. Pulls the covers over me. I begin to relax. I don’t want to talk, but I find myself telling him anyway.

  “What they said about my daddy was that he did bad, bad things. Made it sound like he was a rat. I can’t ever believe that. The night it happened, I got the news from Momma. When she came into my room, she was calm on the outside. Her thumb and forefinger rubbed together slowly. That was the only way I could tell she was in distress, apart from the emptiness in her eyes. Uncle Nico showed up the next morning, early. They argued in the kitchen. Then she came to my room and she told me I had to go and stay with him. She said it was going to be for the best. I would be safe. She was going away, and I would be better off in Uncle Nico’s care.”

  But now, I’m drained out. Exhausted. And, while he holds me, I’m safe enough to drift away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Luce

  My eyes open and a golden and purple dawn is starting up over the Mississippi. The view of the river and the city in the morning light makes me feel for a moment like I woke up in a parallel universe. Like someone did gris-gris or waved a magic wand. Like the last weeks and months rewound or unhappened.

  Then I realize. I remember. And I’m hollow, empty again. Letting my feelings, my emotions and lust sweep over me was pathetic. How could I have let myself down like that?

  Since I lost Daddy I hardly gave a thought to what I wanted. Everything was decided for me. I wasn’t going to be making any choices.

  When I was in Nico’s, the biggest thing in my mind was just getting through the day.

  Every day that Uncle Nico didn’t do something to me or turn me over to someone else, I figured that was a good day. But even that had a dark side. Every day that he didn’t touch me, it made me wonder what he had planned for me. And why me? What was special about me that he didn’t work me like all the other girls? I was glad, but it made me jumpy and afraid.

  In the comfort of this penthouse with a wraparound view of the city, I’m only seeing for the first time the fallout, the effect all of that horror has had on me. I’m calm, almost still on the outside, but inside I’ve been tense for so long, like a wound-up spring. Like any little thing could set me off. As if I’m high up in the air, walking a wire without a net. Inching along, toe by toe. Fighting inside to stay calm and hold my balance, but all the time, just waiting for the wind to blow or a shake and a snatch on the tightrope below my feet.

  Now I feel like I’ve been opened up and everything inside has exploded out.

  Aromas of coffee and cinnamon and nutmeg drift in. He comes to the room in a long cotton robe with a smile like sunshine and a breakfast tray. Feelings of hope wake up inside me again like a furry puppy-dog.

  “Hey, beautiful,” He puts the tray down, strokes my face and then kisses me.

  “I brought coffee and orange juice. And I made French toast with caramelized bananas, so you can tell me what an idiot Yankee I am and how I can’t cook.”

  “I love caramelized bananas,” I tell him.

  “Well,” he kisses me again and I hold on, keeping him against me after I feel him ready to pull back. I want to keep him. I’m sure I can’t. Seeing him in the morning light, it’s like I hadn’t seen him before. He’s way too hot for may and far too old.

  “Well, these are probably the most pitiful caramelized bananas you ever had, and you’ll just be able to tell me that I’m a dumb tourist without a clue. I had them for the first time yesterday morning and I thought they were the best thing ever.” He looks in my eyes. “That was before I met you.”

  Sure. I could have him for a while. But some model or a singer or dancer would lure him away. Especially in this town. I reckon if I was lucky I might hold on to him until the weekend.

  “Did Corky make them for you?”

  “Corky? Are you fucking kidding me. A, she wouldn’t spend a moment cooking for me, B, I know for a fact she’s a fucking awful cook, and C, what? I think you think there might be something going on between Corky and me. And I promise you, there’s not.”

  He hands me a cup of coffee. “You’re the first woman I’ve seen that I’ve had any interest in, not just in this city but practically in living memory.” He kisses me again. Soft. Gentle. I like it. Too m
uch.

  “So,” he passes me the tray. “Eat up before it goes cold.”

  The bananas and French toast are sweet and gooey and there’s just enough vanilla. “It’s great,” I tell him.

  “I got it in a diner yesterday morning. I liked it and there were bananas in the kitchen, so I looked up how to make it for you.”

  “It’s great to wake up to,” I tell him.

  He says, “Eat up. I can make more if you want it.”

  After I eat and he fetches more coffee, he tells me, “You can stay in bed as long as you like.”

  “I don’t think I can remember doing that. Not ever, unless I was sick.”

  He sits by me and puts his arm around my shoulders.

  “You’ve been through a lot. You need some recovery time.” And he kisses me.

  My body rouses and I’m hot. My hands slips down the his rippling abs. He pulls me in closer.

  “No,” I push him away. “Not...” I don’t know what to tell him. All I can think is that he’s being kind to me and I must seem like a bitch.

  I jump up. Out of the bed., I run for the bathroom.

  Inside, with the door shut, I splash water on my face. Then colder water. It’s not enough.

  I run the shower.

  From behind the door, he calls, “Are you okay?”

  My voice shakes. “I’m just taking a shower.”

  I step into the shower and splash water all over. Then I turn it up so it’s hot. Hotter. I turn the heat up slowly as far as I can take it. Then some more. Scalding water hits my shoulders, I turn and get it on my back. Then my stomach and my thighs. I stand that as long as I can. Until my skin is turning red.

  Then I turn it stone cold.

  I jump and gasp, but I make myself stand under the shower head, chilled under the freezing jet.